The remainder of the ceremony passed in a blur.
The next thing he knew, he’d signed his name on a license and Quimbly was showing the clergyman the door.
Vincent had planned on staying the night at Bryony Manor initially but having already spent more time than he’d prefer in Quimbly’s company, he decided he’d rather take to the road and stop at an inn along the way.
Along with his less than enthusiastic bride.
A servant chose that moment to enter. “The nuncheon is served, my lord.”
“Oh, yes. Indeed. You must be hungry, Your Grace? From your travels?” Lady Quimbly lacked the maniacal force of her husband and seemed to wish to bring some normalcy to the situation. She was petite like her daughter but rather than hold her shoulders proudly, she hunched over.
Vincent did not have the heart to refuse her. “I would be grateful for the meal but we’ve several miles to cover and cannot take long.” He turned to address his… wife. “I hope you have already packed. I’d like to get on the road shortly after, however, as I’m needed at Glenn Abby.”
“But—” she started to interrupt, showing more life than she had since she’d first presented herself.
“I’ve already been away longer than I ought,” Vincent added. Which was mostly true. His steward would require his assistance in the fields, what with three of his tenants having up and left for the Americas after Keenan’s death. Not to mention the accounting books he’d put off, a task he barely tolerated.
Vincent was not much of a numbers man.
Hell, truth be told, he wasn’t much of a books man either.
He was far more comfortable in the pastures, atop his horse.
The earl scowled at his daughter. “Lady Lila’s maid can have her belongings prepared immediately.” And then, waving at Vincent, he said, “This way, Your Grace.”
“Her Grace,” Vincent corrected the earl. “She is no longer Lady Lila.”
The earl turned back, eyes narrowed.
Vincent had not appreciated the manner in which Quimbly had treated his daughter, and as his wife now, she was entitled to Vincent’s protection. The earl would treat her with all due respect.
Vincent knew nothing of who she was; her thoughts, her likes and dislikes, nor her dreams. But she’d taken vows to live the rest of her life as his duchess and he would make certain she was afforded the deference that came as a result.
By God, he didn’t have much, but he had his honor.
And so would she.
2
Husband
He was huge. Not just tall and certainly not fat. He was just… huge. Thick blond hair curled atop his head, hanging practically into his eyes and onto his neck. He looked as though he hadn’t been shaved in a week.
He looked like no duke Lila had ever known.
And yet, there was no mistaking his noble birth. It clung to him, despite his worn clothing and rough exterior. Something in the cool blue of his eyes and his chiseled features.
The top of her head did not even reach his shoulders, and she would guess he weighed over fifteen stones.
Dear God, this giant of a man was her husband. The thought both chilled and heated her blood at the same time.
“Fran will be coming as well.” This was not a question on her part. “My maid. I cannot be without my maid.” She lifted her chin and met his eyes for the first time as his wife. Lila would not be blindly submissive, as her mother had been. And it was important she begin as she intended to go forth. Gritting her teeth, she prepared herself to fight him on this point.
“But of course,” he agreed without batting an eyelash, taking the wind out of her sails in an instant. “In fact, she can ride in the luggage coach as soon as she’s packed all of your belongings. It won’t be necessary for her to rush.”
How dare he be so agreeable?
Nuncheon passed much as any other meal Lila had ever taken with her father. He did most of the talking, boasting to the duke of other noble acquaintances as well as travels he’d undertaken in his youth. Lila would have liked to learn something about her husband—her thoughts faltered at the word—but the man was not much of a talker.
He nodded and gave mostly monosyllabic answers. By the time they’d finished eating, she knew little more of him than she had when she had presented herself for their wedding.
Except that he was a hearty eater and didn’t seem much impressed by anything her father had to say.
Which, she grudgingly admitted to herself, boded well for him.
She took no part in the conversation, nor did her mother.
At the conclusion of the meal, he placed his napkin on the plate in front of him and rose. “Your Grace.” It took a moment for Lila to realize he addressed her. “I’ll have my coach brought around for you. Clouds in the west.”
Lila glanced down at her gown. “Do you mind if I change… into more appropriate traveling clothes?” She’d fooled no one with her defiant choice of garment that morning. For the journey to her new home, she’d prefer to wear something less… weathered. She also needed to find Arianna. She could not leave without saying goodbye, without promising to send for her at her first opportunity.
She’d need to reassure her sister that everything was going to be fine.
“Be quick about it,” he responded.
And as much as she’d have liked to challenge him on the command, she was intimidated by his gruff manner and massive size. All the while, in the back of her mind was the knowledge that she would lie with him, perhaps as soon as tonight.
She nodded and made haste as she ascended the stairway to where the nursery had been reconfigured into a classroom.
Would he expect her to perform her wifely obligations in a hastily made up chamber at some inn along the road?
She could claim to be having her monthlies.
He was a giant of a man. If he so chose, she’d have no hope of stopping him.
But that was not part of her plan.
Her heart raced as she arrived at the landing, and she could not attribute it wholly to her exertions.
She knew something of what a man and a woman did to make a baby. She wasn’t a girl, after all. And yet… far too many gaps existed in her education.
She would not think of it now. Perhaps she could befriend him first. Now that she was stuck with him, she had no wish to give him cause to dislike her.
He was just… such a very large man!
Lila opened the door to where she knew she’d find her sister, and at the interruption, Arianna’s governess, Mrs. Betts, glanced up and closed her book.
Arianna sprang out of her desk, looking more like she was barely twelve than her actual age of six and ten. “Did he go ahead with it?”
Biting her lip, Lila nodded. She needed to change her gown, and she hadn’t much time to spare. “I’m leaving now. I’ve come to say goodbye but as soon as I am settled, I’m going to write to you.”
“You’re leaving already?” Arianna’s eyes filled up with tears. “But that isn’t fair at all! Please, Lila, take me with you!”
Lila grasped Arianna by the shoulders, insisting that her younger sister meet her gaze solemnly. “I do not know him, Ari. I need to make sure he’s… a better man than father.” She didn’t want to scare her, but it would be no good to bring her sister away from their father if her husband was no better.
Or worse.
She didn’t want Arianna to worry about her. She’d have enough to cope with here. “But I promise, as soon as I know, I will send for you.” The two sisters had always been there for one another. This could not be goodbye. She’d find a way to be with her sister again.
She’d make certain of it.
Tears fell from Arianna’s eyes, but she nodded. Unfortunately, they both comprehended, all too well, the weaknesses of men.
“If you have need of me, contact Fran’s sister. Fran will write to her so that she knows my location.” Lila took a piece of paper from Arianna’s desk and proceeded
to write down the instruction. She could not trust her father to facilitate any sort of communications between them in the future.
With one last glance at her sister’s scowl, she added, “I need to go now. Stay out of trouble. Keep writing your stories, and we’ll see one another soon.”
In her sister’s eyes, she saw the same fear Lila felt deep inside.
With a father like Quimbly, nothing was ever certain.
Lila could only hope her husband was not the same.
* * *
When Lila was finally ready, she’d already taken at least ten minutes longer than he’d allotted, perhaps closer to twenty, she burst out the front door. Her husband glanced down at her from atop a giant mare and then tucked a pocket watch back into his jacket. He looked fit to be tied.
“I’m sorry!” she gushed as she made her way carefully down to the carriage. Warmth suffused her neck and cheeks, and she knew her eyes must be red. “I had to say goodbye to my sister.” She’d also had Fran pin her hair up again and wore one of her favorite straw bonnets and an indigo-colored wool coat. She’d donned a traveling gown made of a pale blue muslin while Fran packed her a small valise. With one last glance around her chamber, she’d scooped up a book she had been reading and tucked it under her arm.
But he was on a horse. “You are riding outside?”
Her husband gestured toward the coach, horses and driver waiting patiently. “You’ll have your privacy.”
So she would not be given an opportunity to know him better before nightfall.
“But I—” She bit her lip. “I’d hoped we could familiarize ourselves…” Her eyes dropped.
His eyes narrowed and his jaw ticked, as though he was grinding his teeth. “We’ll stop before dark.”
Sitting atop the horse, he had her imagining him as some sort of Nordic God, but then just as quickly dismissed such a foolish notion.
“But I—”
“I expect you’ll come to know me well enough.” And then he jerked his chin, indicating for her to climb into the carriage while he turned to ride ahead.
Not the beginning she had in mind. Although after her appearance earlier that day, what did she expect? He likely already regretted taking on such an unfashionable wife.
One more glance behind him and then he urged his horse into a run.
Married less than three hours and already he was running away from her.
Married…
As the driver steered them off of her father’s property, Lila might as well have been driving into another world. She was a wife now. She opened her book but for all the jostling could hardly focus on the pages.
The carriage hit one bump, and then another, and she nearly lurched off the bench onto the floor.
This ride already promised to be an unpleasant one.
3
Will You?
His new wife had a ladies’ maid, of course. What other luxuries would she expect upon reaching Glenn Abby? Vincent imagined how she might view his home when they finally arrived. A cold, forbidding castle, built in the late fifteenth century, it didn’t exactly present the most welcoming of sights. Keenan, nor Vincent’s father, nor his grandfather before him had done much of anything in the way of repairs.
The foundation listed, birds dwelt in some of the corridors, and bitter drafts managed to find their way into every room throughout the wintertime, regardless of how much coal one shoveled into the hearths.
Would she expect well-dressed servants lined up to greet her? Formal dining every evening? A ball, hosted in her honor?
Vincent laughed to himself at that thought.
Lila Catherine was her name. And now she was a Saint–Pierre. Would the title of duchess feel as foreign to her as duke felt to him?
Likely, she’d been born and raised for such an undertaking.
He shook his head.
Damn Keenan. The woman was going to be miserable. His gut clenched at the thought that his brother ought to have been the one to marry her.
But Keenan had forfeited the dubious privilege.
“Hiya!” He urged his mount forward. Tonight, he’d make her his wife in truth.
Hopefully, he could afford a decent chamber at the inn he had in mind.
* * *
Relief flowed over Lila when the rolling sounds of the carriage slowed, indicating they were pulling into a coaching inn. She hoped so, anyhow. She rather felt as though every bone in her body had been jostled loose. If this hideously uncomfortable carriage had any springs at all, they’d obviously hardened and lost all flexibility long ago. Furthermore, the bench cushion, if one could call it that, was worn thinner than her coat.
She squashed down the miserable feelings surging up inside of her.
Lila was not one to complain. Long ago, she’d discovered it a useless endeavor. It didn’t really matter, anyhow. A husband and wedding night loomed all too close.
She rolled her shoulders and rubbed the muscles in her neck and then glanced out the window. A two-story inn, built out of brick and mortar, stood visible in the glow of evening twilight.
He ought to be happy, at least. She grimaced to herself. They’d arrived before nightfall. She sniffed and clutched tightly to the leather strap hanging on the sidewall.
Her physical discomfort was not the only reason for her distress. Unable to read, she’d had nothing to do but imagine innumerable scenarios of what her marriage was going to be like, and the cumulated effect of these scenarios had set her nerves decidedly on edge.
Although she’d not allowed herself to cry this morning, or at the ceremony, or even when she’d said goodbye to Arianna, the urge was becoming nearly too much to overcome.
The coach jarred to a halt and if she hadn’t been holding tightly to the strap, she likely would have fallen onto the floor.
Would they share a chamber?
She closed her eyes and prayed for strength.
Sounds of horses and hostlers and all manner of gentlemen swarming about the yard reminded her that she’d gone months without seeing any crowds of people, or anyone at all other than her own family and her father’s servants.
It ought to be exciting. Interesting even, but after the events of her day, all she wanted to do was crawl beneath a heavy counterpane and sleep.
She peered out the window to watch as another coach arrived and waited for one of the footmen to open the door and lower the step for her.
And waited some more.
With a frustrated sigh, she edged herself forward and resigned to open the door for herself. “Dratted good for nothing—!” She didn’t ordinarily grumble, or curse for that matter, but she’d had quite enough of this day.
Rearranging her skirts, she crouched on her haunches, grasped the handle, leaned forward and—
Tumbled into a solid mass of man as the door flew out of her hand.
“Oomph.” Her head crashed into him first, and then the rest of her body followed. As tall and firm and muscular as he was, he easily prevented her from experiencing a most embarrassing and painful landing on the cold, hard ground.
It was the perfect ending to an absolutely miserable journey. She would not cry.
All she could think to do was bury her face where he could not see her.
Which happened to be his chest.
“I didn’t think anyone was coming to assist me.” She spoke into his shirt and coat, which most likely rendered her explanation utterly incoherent.
Talkative man that he was, he merely grunted and lowered her feet to the ground. Her unsteady knees nearly gave out on her, most likely due to the jarring she’d endured throughout the day.
She did not release him immediately. He really was quite sturdy.
As anyone with his size ought to be.
A large hulking brawny stranger. She removed her hand quickly. He would put himself inside of her. Possibly very soon.
It ought to be the other way around, she fumed inside. Women oughtn’t to have to suffer for the mere sake of… every
damn thing that men wanted.
Again, she stifled her temper and took in her surroundings.
Ostlers, maids, and various other servants rushed about with horses, buckets, and packages that were presumably awaiting the mail coach.
So many people! A world of unfamiliarity.
A tremor ran through her.
“Are you ill?” He sounded more irritated than concerned.
She was miles from home, her sister, mother, and even the father she hated. She had less than a pound in her reticule and only one change of clothing. And yet, the urge to buy a ticket on the mail coach and travel anywhere away from here was a strong one.
But where could she go? Her father… he’d never allow her to return.
She glanced up and nodded. She knew nothing of him, and he knew nothing of her. It was imperative she remain optimistic. Perhaps she and her husband could find a way to get along without hating one another. She suspected not all marriages were like her parents’ had been.
She hoped so, anyhow.
As far back as she could remember, she’d been an annoyance to her father. She did not relish the idea of being a burden and annoyance to her husband for the remainder of her life—or of his, whichever the case may be.
She did not relish the idea of having a husband that she feared. Fear was exhausting.
Her father treated her mother as though he hated her, and her mother kowtowed to his every whim. She knew this could not be the situation for all married couples, but it was hard to believe her own could be any different.
Especially after starting out in the manner that it had.
With a flick of her eyes, she stole a glance at his rugged features. His was not the face of a happily newlywed gentleman anticipating his wedding night. Rather more that of a man who was headed for the gallows.
Delightful.
Three hours later, Lila stared out the window at the still-bustling yard. Much like waves rolling in and out, coaches, horses, and all manner of vehicle came and went even though night had fallen.
Hell’s Wedding Bells: A Devilish Debutante’s Novella Page 2
